Mrs. Heilman was fresh from college. She smelled good and wore a smock with the day of the week embroidered across the front. She spoke with raised eyebrows and a big smile – lilting. After mom said goodbye I wiped her kiss from my cheek and joined the other boys building with blocks on the brightly colored carpet. Shana, with long brown hair and lips stitched into the seat of her jeans, kissed me at recess that first day and I pretended to be grossed out but, really? Well, I loved kindergarten.
First grade was a different story. Mrs. Roosth’s class met in a portable building with dark wood paneled walls and a rattling air conditioner duct taped into the space of an open window. Mrs. Roosth never smiled that I can remember, rarely even spoke, gave us worksheets and told us to work silently while she sat her desk sipping V8 from a bendy straw. We sat in alphabetical order which put me next to the smelliest girl in school. She spit when she talked. I hated Mrs. Roosth’s class.
Today feels like a first day of school.
I didn’t sleep much last night. Or for the last week really. Partly out of anticipation – almost unbearable excitement to see how God uses this album, and just to be done…finally. But part of the sleepless is fear too – just a little. What ifs fill my head in the silence after lights out. Will this be more like kindergarten or first grade?
This morning at 12:01 Third World Symphony climbed on the iTunes bus. The first day. Play nice would ya?